Write Before Christmas, page 13
Kelsie grinned. “Just game night, but then it’s always game night. You should come. My mom’s not there, so I need a partner—”
“Oh.” I glanced back at the house. “I don’t know.”
“Nobody’s going to bug you,” Kelsie said, as if reading my mind, and I wondered how much her mom had said about me to her family. “I’m not sure anyone in that house knows who you are, but even if they do, they’re cool.” She clutched the leash tighter now, with both hands. “We’re playing Trivial Pursuit.”
I loved Trivial Pursuit. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Which was a total lie, and Kelsie could sense it, too, based on the knowing grin she just shot me.
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” she said. “Seriously. I need a partner.” She paused. “But only if you promise to be better at the game than my mom.”
I laughed. “Well, I know a little bit more about pop culture, anyway.”
“You’d have to.” She laughed. “Danielle is hopeless when it comes to TV and movies.”
“I’m trying to teach her,” I said.
Kelsie looked at me questioningly.
“I mean…” I tried to cover. “I make suggestions for her when I see her at my house cooking…for her job.”
“Whatever you say,” she said. “Anyway, she’s so clueless, she had no idea you were famous-famous until I showed her your video.”
“You showed her the video?” No wonder Dani had opted to go out with a “friend” tonight instead of staying in with me. “That…oh God.” She probably saw me as the biggest asshole prima donna on the planet. I’d been running from that video for months, and it had followed me all the way to Wackernagel.
“She stuck up for you.” Kelsie gave a yank on Ralph’s chain, and he sat right down. “She cares about you, Matt.”
I felt my face heat up. Thank goodness for dark country roads. “I care about her, too.”
She smacked me playfully on the arm. “So, why’d you let her go out with that Fred guy tonight?”
“Fred?” Pants McGee? I frowned. “That’s who she’s out with?”
“If it helps,” she said, “I think she was pretty miserable about it. I kept joking with her that Fred was going to be my new dad, and she kept threatening to ground me and take my phone away.”
“You don’t think it’s anything?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but, I mean, she’s out with him right now. She’s obviously not opposed to the idea of dating Fred.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was just the prospect of a nice meal out.”
There it was. The thing Fred could give her that I couldn’t: a normal courtship.
“I mean,” Kelsie said, “you’re leaving soon anyway, right?”
“Yeah,” I said sadly. This place was a vacation, a fantasy. My real life, my home, was in Indianapolis. Jane’s, too.
“Too bad, though. I’ve never seen my mom as happy as she’s been since she started working for you.” Kelsie turned to walk toward the house. “We’d better get back before they stick us with the orange pie.”
I didn’t follow her. What was I doing even considering going to Dani’s parents’ house for game night? She was out on the town with someone else. I was just the guy she was sleeping with who’d be gone in a matter of weeks. How odd would that look if she came home, and her daughter and I were paired up for Trivial Pursuit?
“Thanks, Kelsie,” I said. “But I’m going to head home.” I played my old broken record. “I have writing to do.” Which was true. I had to turn the manuscript in the day after tomorrow, and I needed to put the finishing touches on it. I didn’t have time for fun.
“Maybe another time.”
I waited a minute, letting her get a substantial lead on me before walking back to my place. When I got in, I checked my phone, and Jane had sent me a text: “Saw Dani at restaurant with that guy from the cookie exchange holding hands.”
And there it was.
Instead of heading up to the office, I flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, attempting to drown out the scenes of Fred and Dani together in my head.
…
Dani
“I saw Fred at yoga this morning,” Una said as she draped a garland around the prongs of the dining room chandelier. “He said he had a great time at dinner.”
“It was fun.” I stepped back and assessed my own handiwork. I’d removed all of the regular china and crystal from the hutch and replaced it with Christmas plates, bowls, and champagne flutes I’d found in my parents’ house and the basement here. “We had a nice friendly meal together.”
Una hung a red ball from the sparkly garland she’d just arranged. “Fred said something about it being one of the best nights he’d had in a while.”
“That might be overstating things,” I said. Though maybe not. Fred was a very enthusiastic guy. He’d practically moaned over his pegan-approved salad of basically greens, olive oil, and vinegar. I shut the doors on the hutch and moved over to the bare fir tree we’d set up in front of the bay window.
“Well,” Kelsie said from the far corner of the room where she was fiddling around with her phone and a speaker, “while you were out with Fred, I ran into Matt on the road.”
“You what?” I ran over and shut the dining room door. Jane was in her office, just across the hall, and Matt was upstairs working on his book. We weren’t exactly in private corners right now.
Una looked from me to Kelsie. “What’s going on?”
Kelsie pulled out a dining room chair and sat at the table, so, basically the opposite of helping Una and me decorate. “I was out walking Ralph. He got loose and ran right up to Matt.”
“That bad dog.”
Kelsie held up her hand to stop me. “He’s the goodest boy on the planet.” She looked right at me. “But this isn’t about Ralph. This is about how when I told Matt about you and Fred going out to dinner together, he looked like a sad puppy.” She made a big show of frowning.
To avoid processing the regretful notion that I’d hurt Matt, I plugged in a string of lights to test them. All good.
“What do you have to say about that, Mom?”
Una dragged the box of garland over to the tree. “Why would she have anything to say? She doesn’t like Matt.”
Kelsie raised her eyebrows. “Mom?”
Una brought a hand to her mouth. “She does like Matt?”
“Welcome to the party, Auntie Una.”
I moved around to the back of the tree to hide my blush. “I don’t like Matt,” I said. “I mean, he’s nice and a good boss and everything, and maybe if circumstances were different, and he weren’t moving back to Indiana right after the first of the year—”
“Mom, you basically just admitted that you’re into him.”
Sometimes I truly missed the days when my daughter didn’t think she was smarter than me. So, like, when she was one. Before she could talk.
“He told me he cares for you,” Kelsie said.
“Dani,” Una said, eyes wide.
Kelsie was prone to exaggeration, and this was no doubt one of those times. Heck, just yesterday she’d been swanning around the house joking about Fred becoming her new stepfather. Matt and I had talked about our situation. We both knew the score. He was leaving, and I was just starting to embark on my new journey as a single person.
“Kelsie, this is much more complicated than boy likes girl,” I said. “Matt’s not available, not really. And I was in a marriage for twenty years. I’m still trying to figure out who I am on my own.”
“She has a point, Kelsie,” Una said. “I always tell my clients to take as much time as they need when it comes to wading into new waters.”
“She’s being chicken,” Kelsie said. “That’s what it is. A hot, famous author likes her, and she’s scared.”
“Kelsie,” warned Una.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Kelsie sees things in black and white, which is not her fault.” I looked at my daughter. “It’s your age, hon. You think all you have to do is be honest about how you feel and everything will work out. That’s not how life works. There are other considerations.” Matt and I had been honest with each other from the beginning. We both knew the score. No matter how much we enjoyed each other’s company, we’d be saying good-bye when it was time for him to move out of Wackernagel and back to Indianapolis.
“What about Dad?” she asked.
I laughed. “What about Dad?”
“What if you two had been honest with each other when it counted?”
“Your dad and I had other problems beyond communication.”
“But that’s where it starts is all I’m saying.” Kelsie got up and wrapped her arms around me. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets. Matt’s a catch, Mom. And from what I can tell, he’s into you.”
I squeezed her back. “Thank you for looking out for me, but I’m fine. Really.”
…
Matt
December 20th, day of deadline
I…was…done!
I pressed save on the document and folded my hands behind my head. Staring at the computer screen, I focused on the little number in the bottom left hand corner: 143,256.
The Bastyan Saga was complete.
Or, well, the first draft of it was, anyway. There’d be plenty of high-level edits in my future, and then line edits, and copy edits. But I’d dwell on all of that later. For now, I had a complete manuscript—one that I was proud of, no less—to send to the show people and my editor.
It was Jane’s idea to write individual emails to the showrunners, to take the opportunity to write a further note of apology and appreciation to go along with the completed story. I had apologized after the Comic Con incident, but it couldn’t hurt to reiterate my regret for what happened.
I started with Dave.
Yeesh, I hated sending emails. Writing books was hard, but composing an email that struck just the right tone was damn near impossible.
“Hi, Dave,” I started. “Long time, no talk.” I erased that immediately. Thinly veiled snark was certainly not the right way to go about this. “I hope you’re doing well, and I’m looking forward to seeing you at the premiere party.” I scratched the back of my neck. Was I developing hives? Probably.
Anyway. The email.
“I hope we’ll have a chance to chat then. I want to apologize in person for my outburst at Comic Con. Like I said before, I meant nothing by it.” I felt like I’d be atoning for this video for the rest of my life. “Anyway, I’ve attached the completed manuscript for you here. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts and to discuss it with you!” Too cheery? Did that really need an exclamation point? I changed it to a period.
“Say hi to Meg and Connor for me. Let me know if you need anything else.”
People always included that last line in emails, but really, I didn’t want him to let me know if he needed anything else.
“Best, Matt.”
I heard a noise outside my door. Probably Jane coming to make sure I was completing this task to her specifications. “Come on in, Jane. I’m about to send the email.”
The door opened a crack, and Dani peeked in. “Sorry! Just dropping off your lunch.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I sat up straight. “I thought you were Jane.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No bother.” I waved her in, and she set a tray of food down on the end table near the bed. I clicked the attach button, found the correct file, and pinned it to the email. Without stressing about it anymore, I hit “send.” I shut my laptop and wiped my hands against each other. “Guess what,” I said.
She looked at me curiously.
“I’m done.” A smile of relief stretched across my face. It truly hit me now that Dani was standing in the room with me. I was done with the book. For the rest of my stay in Wackernagel, I was a free man. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
“You’re done?” she asked.
“Finished.” I nodded toward the computer. “Well, I have to send a few emails first, but then I will be totally, utterly done.”
“I’m so happy for you, Matt.”
She ran toward me, and I swept her up in a hug. She planted a big kiss on my cheek. The last time I’d turned in a manuscript, so back when I was working on book two, no one had been around when I finished. I’d shared the good news with the little dancer girl ornament and the silk plant in my living room window.
I liked this much better.
But first Dani and I needed to hash out a few things.
I set her down. “Hey, can we talk a second?”
Her brow furrowed. “Sure.”
I gestured to the bed, and she perched on the foot of it.
My hands made a move for my hairline, but I shoved them into the front pockets of my jeans. “I just wanted you to know that I know you were out with that Fred guy the other night.”
“Matt,” she said, “I’m sorry, I—”
I held up a hand to stop her. “No, Dani. It’s okay. I’m only saying anything because I didn’t want you to worry about it or think you had to hide it from me. I think it’s great.”
“You do?” She frowned.
“No.” I smiled sadly. “I don’t think it’s great, but I understand it.” I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine. “We talked about it. This isn’t permanent.”
“I know,” she said.
“And I understand your situation, too.” I squeezed her hand. “You’re just starting your new, single life. You have to put yourself out there and meet new people.”
“Matt,” she said, “I hated being out with him.”
“You did?”
Dani shook her head. “Nothing against Fred, at all. He’s a nice person, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and comparing him to you all night.”
I suddenly felt like I could do anything, like send one million emails or write a whole new manuscript in a single day.
“I know this can’t be permanent, but I don’t want to date anyone else right now.” She gazed up at me. “I hope it doesn’t scare you to hear that.”
The only thing that scared me was thinking about leaving her in less than two weeks. But that was the deal I’d made—with her and with Jane. I cupped Dani’s chin. “It doesn’t,” I said. “It doesn’t scare me at all.”
“And now that you’re done with your book,” she said, “you and I can really celebrate, have fun together. Let’s enjoy the time we have while we have it.”
“I can get on board with that.” I leaned in and touched my lips to hers. She scooted closer to me, and the two of us fell sideways onto the bed. Such were the perks of having one’s office in a bedroom.
At some point, I got up and locked the door, and we made love in celebration of my newfound freedom. This was how we could spend the next two weeks—Dani and me together under the covers, big spoon and little spoon.
“I ran into your daughter a few nights ago,” I said, running a finger up and down her arm.
“She told me.” Dani giggled. “She thought you were a catch.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, “but she got me thinking about something, about how my post-traumatic agoraphobia keeps you—or at least the two of us together—from doing things, say, Fred could offer you.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like going to restaurants or competing in pub quizzes, walking around in public without a hat on.” I pulled her tighter. “I used to love doing that stuff, but this whole fame thing…I was using the book as my excuse, but it’s really about avoiding people who might want something from me.” My lips grazed her ear, and she shuddered. “You saw the video. Those guys in the bar treated me like I was one of them, and they stabbed me in the back.”
Dani flipped around to look at me. “They suck. Those guys betrayed your trust. Not everyone is looking at what they can gain from knowing you.”
“Sometimes that’s hard to believe.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I want nothing from you, you know, except the odd orgasm.”
I reached down and lightly pinched her butt cheek.
She giggled. “But seriously. I know it’s scary to let people in, but you have to…you have to take that risk. Otherwise, you’re going to be very lonely for a very long time.” Her eyes turned sad. “I don’t want to have to worry about you once you’ve left and moved back to Indianapolis.”
I pictured myself unlocking the door to my big, empty house and brushing the dust off my one silk plant. I felt the tug of homesickness, but it wasn’t for Indy. “You’re dangerous.”
“Me?” she asked, doe-like eyes shocked. “Why?”
“Because you’ve almost convinced me.”
“Good. Because I’m right. You need to get back on the horse of being social.”
Grumbling, I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”
“You’re done with the book now, aren’t you?” she said. “Wasn’t that a big part of your stress—having to make excuses for why you hadn’t finished? Now you can tell them you’re done. The book is out of your hands.”
“That’s true.” Dani had a point. I was no longer the privileged jerk writer who was taking too long to finish his book. I was the responsible, hard-working author who was waiting for notes from his editor.
“And we wouldn’t have to jump into the deep end socially. No pub quizzes right off the bat. Start small,” she said. “Kelsie told me she tried to get you to come to game night at our house. I think that’s a great idea. My family is super welcoming, and no one will bother you, I promise.”
Maybe starting small with Dani’s family wasn’t a bad idea. It might even be fun. “That’s what Kelsie said.”
